


What if?

by orphan_account



Category: SKAM (Italy), WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Best Friends, Cheating, Crossover, Domestic, Experiment, Film night, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Party, Spooning, Uncertainty, bi?, night in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21523465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After hearing Robbe come out, Jens had some thinking of his own to do. The conclusion he came to was kind of surprising, not least for Robbe when Jens decides to act on it.Now Robbe has found something new with Jens that he never expected, and he is happy. But he can't shake thoughts of Sander and how that platinum blonde bombshell turned his life upside down. However, when he meets three Italian boys at a party and they give him some advice, he thinks his problems are going to go away.But they are only just beginning.---This started out as a one-shot jebbe fic but I accidentally made it very complicated, featuring crossovers with skam italia and lots of latent feelings being explored. Should be very satisfying by the end but hold on in there it's going to be a wild ride, and will feature everybody's personal favourite crackship at some point or another.All chapters are planned out (!) just need to write them. I'm definitely going to finish this one so don't forget to check back for updates, and leave comments as to what you think should happen next slash any theories you might have, I'll try and include it if I can!
Relationships: Jens Stoffels/Sander Driesen, Robbe IJzermans/Jens Stoffels, Robbe Ijzermans/Sander Driesen
Comments: 20
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday evening, 6:23pm. Jens has a confession to make.

It was just a normal evening in, and something that hadn’t happened for a while. But Robbe was so glad to be back hanging out with Jens, and just Jens, without Moyo’s crass remarks or Aaron’s dumb comments. It was like how it used to be, before Jana, before Britt, before Sander. And it felt good.

But it almost felt too good. Something had changed since yesterday when Robbe had told Jens about liking Sander. Not that he thought Jens was homophobic, he wouldn’t, couldn’t believe that. But Jens had seemed a bit more distant from him during the day. It wasn’t much, but when they had gone in for their matey hug Jens had pulled away a bit quickly, and drew back from shaking Robbe’s hand. He didn’t know what was up but he was glad t have this time with Jens alone now so they could finally talk like they had not talked in a long time.

It was vettige vrijdag so they were having chips, and lots of them. They had films set up on Robbe’s laptop that they were watching and every time they ran out of chips they simply paused and got up to go to the kitchen to make some more, where they would talk. Then it would be back to Robbe’s bed, lying on their stomachs with the chips between them. Robbe thought Jens was trying concertedly to keep his body away from Robbe’s when they lay down so they wouldn’t touch, but he thought he might just be imagining it.

But later when they were making their next batch of chips he didn’t think he could be imagining it. They had got the chips back out of the freezer and Jens was trying to tear the box open. Robbe brought the oven tray over and Jens tipped the frozen lumps of what used to be potato out and began spreading them out with his fingers. Robbe joined in, until his fingers brushed Jens’. It was only the gentlest of touches, and among friends ought to have been dismissed and forgotten about. But Jens drew back sharply, pulling his hands out of the tray.

“Everything OK?” asked Robbe, turning to put the tray in the oven.

“Yeah,” said Jens dubiously, rubbing his hands together. “My hands were just cold, that’s all.”

Robbe looked at Jens implacably. Something was up with him, he was sure of it.

“Jens, what is it? Why are you acting so strange?”

“It’s nothing, Robbe. Leave it.”

“No come on,” urged Robbe. “I gave you an explanation for my behaviour and you have been so supportive of me. Now let me support you.”

Jens was looking distractedly around the kitchen, looking everywhere, it seemed, apart from at Robbe. “Well, mate, I’m not sure if you can.”

“Try me.”

“OK then.” Jens gulped and looked worried for a moment, and then went to the fridge to get another couple of beers, as if to give himself something to do. “Well, it’s to do with something you said yesterday.”

“Yeah? But I thought you were cool with me being… well, with what I said?”

“Yeah, dude, I think it’s cool. You know I do.”

“And I told you it woudn’t change anything between us. I don’t feel that way about you.”

“Yeah.” Jens almost looked pained for a moment. “You did say that.”

“So what is it then?”

Jens cracked open the beers and handed one to Robbe. “So… I guess I have something to tell you too.”

“Right… well in your own time, Jens.”

“Yeah. So.” Robbe could see Jens thinking of the best way to put this. It was clearly something big. “When you said you didn’t like me, that kind of got me thinking.”

“Jens, it’s nothing personal! You don’t need to worry that you’re unattractive or anything, and I’m sorry if I hurt your pride…”

  
“No, would you just listen for a moment you dumbass?” Jens stared Robbe down with real anger now, and Robbe knew when to shut up. “I mean, it got me thinking about my own feelings.”

Jens took a deep breath. “Look, Robbe, I’ve also been having a lot of weird thoughts going through my head lately. At first I thought it was just growing up and all of these hormones making me want weird stuff. But you knowing what you wanted and being able to put a label on that… well, I was impressed, and proud of you. And it made me think, maybe I should do the same thing.”

There was a beat of silence but Robbe waited for Jens to carry on. Jens licked his lips and began uncertainly. “Well I have thought for a long time about… what it would be like to kiss a guy. And, please don’t tell Moyo or Aaron this,” Robbe shook his head with a snort of laughter - as if he would tell either of those idiots any of Jens' secrets! - “sometimes I open Youporn and go straight to the gay category. Like, I don’t know… I like it.”

Robbe was amazed but tried not to let any of it show on his face. Jens had reacted so well yesterday by acting as if everything was normal, even if he hadn’t felt it straight away, and it was the least Robbe could do to show him the same respect.

“So I think… well I don’t know what I am, just yet. But it feels good to face up to the fact that I think about guys sometimes. And that, well, I’d like to kiss a guy too.”

“Dude, that’s amazing.”

“But yeah. Robbe, I’ve got to tell you, you’re my best friend. What I am getting at is… well. When you said you didn’t like me, that got me thinking. And that’s why, I guess, I have been acting a bit strange around you.”

“Why?”

  
“Because… I think I like you.”

“Jens.”

“Look, you don’t have to do anything, and I don’t want anything to be weird. You’ve just got to know that I can’t act the same around you any more. Just give me a bit of time till we work it out.”

“So why did you want to come round this evening?”

“I don’t know. I guess… I was being stupid. I had some sort of idea I would tell you all this and then… you’d admit you’ve loved me all along and whatever.” Jens tried to laugh it off and it really ought to have sounded like a joke. But Robbe wasn’t laughing, now it was his turn to stare at the floor.

“Jens, what if I did do that?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if I…” and as the meaning of what Robbe had said clicked into place in Jens’ brain, his face dropped all awkwardness as he stared at Robbe.

Robbe put his beer down on the counter behind him and took a step towards Jens, stopping a few centimetres away from him, but not touching him, not just yet.

“Robbe?” whispered Jens between them.

Robbe raised his eyes to meet Jens’. Neither of them were quite sure what they were doing, and both were worried that tomorrow, they would regret it, or they would be ruining their friendship, or something. But the urge, the opportunity, to see what there was between them at last, was greater than any doubts they had.

Robbe’s eyes traced the features he knew so well and had spent many nights fantasising over before Sander had come along. But he looked at them afresh, those long, dark eyelashes, that beatufully formed mouth, his jawline like it had been hewn from marble. Could this really be his, now, just for a moment?

Their lips were parted in anticipation, and Robbe could hear Jens breathing quickly and blinking rapidly. “Well there’s only one thing for it, I guess.” Robbe murmured. “If you want to find out what it is like to kiss a guy, you’d better try it with someone who likes you back.”

And with that, Robbe placed his lips on Jens’. The touch was soft and gentle, waiting for Jens to respond and not wanting to alarm him. Like a petal blown along by the wind, Robbe’s pink lips grazed Jens’ and were gone. He pulled back and looked up to Jens’ eyes, searching for his reaction.

Jens looked shocked and stared Robbe in the eyes, unable to know what to do. But he hadn’t moved away. Robbe leaned in again, this time stepping forward and lowering his hand onto Jens’ hip. This time he applied more pressure, and sunk his kiss onto Jens with a deep breath, pushing his lips apart to make room for his own. Still Jens did not respond, and Robbe retreated again, happy to leave that where it was and not to cause any more potential awkwardness.

But just as Robbe thought it was over, it began for real. The touch must have shocked Jens into life as his body finished processing his torrent of emotions at kissing his best friend. But it was good, and he wanted more.

Jens put his beer down too and used both of his hands to grab Robbe’s his and pull him towards him. Their bodies met, touching all over, and Robbe could feel Jens waking up to the experience. Jens stood straight and dived for Robbe’s mouth, kissing him deeply again and again. He bit Robbe’s lip teasingly and he felt Robbe smile underneath him and reply by darting his tongue into Jens’ mouth. Robbe could feel the heat rising between them and kept telling himself to stop before it was too late, before the chips were burned, before someone saw, before… before they took this too far, and they couldn’t go back to just being friends. But it was just too much, too good, too sweet a reward for all those years of pining for him. Here Jens was, giving Robbe exactly what he wanted. And the best thing about it for Robbe was that Jens was enjoying it. He could tell, as something hard was pressing itself against Robbe’s leg.

But in the end it wasn’t Robbe that stopped it. Or Jens. It was Milan, coming down the hall into the kitchen.

“Robbe? There’s someone cute at the door for you!” he called, and Jens and Robbe sprung apart just in time to see Milan follow his voice and come in. He looked between the two of them, at their flushed faces, tousled hair, and - well, Robbe was glad he was wearing his longest, baggiest hoodie. Milan coughed and pulled an anxoius face at Robbe as his guest followed him into the kitchen.

Robbe would have gasped in surprise but he was just too flummoxed. It was Sander. Sander whom he had cut off because he had kissed his ex-girlfriend. And however Robbe might try to explain what happened just now as a simple experiment, he was a hypocrite. He was caught between two boys who liked him and whom he had kissed within a week of each other. Here. In his kitchen.

What was he going to do now?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday night, 10:33pm. The Broerrrs go to a party and Robbe, confused about Jens and still pining for Sander, gets some advice from Italian exchange students.

Luckily Robbe didn’t have to decide what he was going to do about this situation right there and then. Luckily for him and Jens, they had a concert to go to.

After greeting Sander, if not amicably then at least not maliciously, Jens pushed past where he and Milan were standing in the doorway and Robbe heard his footsteps retreating back to his bedroom. Robbe scrambled for something to say, and made his excuses about going to the Kid Noize concert and having to leave before trying to make an exit too. But Sander blocked his way, and Milan, sensing a “talk” was about to happen, slunk out of the room but was no doubt listening in around the corner.

“Robbe. I need to talk to you. To explain.” Sander sounded pleading and heartbroken.

But Robbe couldn’t possibly organise his thoughts just then. As much as he wanted to hear Sander out and forgive him as Sander had forgiven him that Tuesday afternoon, he was aware of how hypocritical he would be if he didn’t face up to kissing Jens. And that kiss had reawoken so many long dormant feelings within him, he felt everything was messed up and he couldn’t possibly find a clear path through his thoughts right now.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and though he hated himself for doing this, he walked out, down the corridor, and saying “come on Jens,” threw on his jacket, feeling for his wallet and keys in the pockets, and walked out of his flat before he could change his mind.

They hadn’t mentioned that kiss again that night, and Jens seemed to be back to normal. The only difference Robbe noticed in him now was how his dancing seemed to have improved as they pulled shapes at the gig. Moyo hadn’t turned up in the end, and Robbe had loved the carefree feeling he got when it was just the two of them, with no secrets between each other at all. They had come home past midnight and parted ways at the station with a hug, a proper hug, and just before turning away Jens dropped a quick peck on Robbe’s cheek, but then was gone.

The next day the normality between them continued, though Robbe’s brain was churning with thoughts. He wondered how Jens could act so nonchalant, or at least seem that way. Jens asked about Sander and Robbe thought he could detect a hint of jealousy in his voice.

Then of course, they had seen that mural. That had shaken Robbe up like dynamite. The last time he had seen that picture, it had been a little letter from Sander shown to him in their private world when they had been in love. Now it was proudly on a wall for all to see, framed in a heart, shouting, I love you Robbe. Jens was the only one who knew who could have put it there and looked dismayed and resigned as Robbe stole a glimpse at him. Robbe didn’t know what to feel, he was so overwhelmed, and left at the earliest opportunity, saying he had to go and visit his mum. He couldn’t look at Jens, knowing he would be hurt at the thought of Robbe running to Sander.

But he didn’t run to Sander. He just got on his bike and rode and rode and rode, nowhere in particular, but hoping the exercise and the cold winter air would help clarify his thoughts.

They didn’t. That night, though, he met some people that helped him see things a bit more clearly.

The party was at one of the student halls in Antwerp. They had been tipped off by Moyo’s weed dealer who studied computer science at the university and he said they let anyone in who pays the entry fee. So the boys decided to try their luck, and after meeting at the station, where they had drunk a fair few tins each, they caught the tram to the halls together.

It was in full swing by the time they arrived and paid the three euros entry, and Jens went to get them all pintjes as the other three stayed and separately decided on a plan of action. The hall of the building was full, loud and suitably dark, with people squeezing out into the corridor and the communal rooms beyond. Moyo and Aaron were already drooling over some of the chickies and discussing between themselves how to make their moves. Robbe needed to prepare himself for being left alone with Jens again, and began to retreat as he saw him coming back over. He just needed to decide what to do. He elbowed his way out into the corridor, and stepping over some drunkards on the floor, pushed his way into the brightly lit kitchen. It was hot and sticky, but the far window was open and Robbe staggered towards it gratefully and stuck his head out, hoping the cold air would sober him up.

He had his eyes closed, but had the feeling someone was looking at him. He looked around to his left to see three boys huddled on the floor of the balcony, wrapped up as if for the arctic in hats and scarves and coats, and Robbe smelled the cannabis they were smoking. He was surprised to see them but they seemed relieved.

“Hey, as you’re there, could you bring us a blanket or something please?” one boy exclaimed excitedly in English.

“Yeah,” joined in another. “Can you bring us something warm? We’re dying from the cold.” The boys had odd accents but Robbe couldn’t quite place them.

He fished around in his English grammar for a response. “OK. Are you guys not already warm though?”

“No. Freezing!” This was said by the third boy, sitting in the corner and pulling on a massive joint.

“OK,” Robbe said again, and, drawing back, looked around the kitchen. On the sofa in the corner was a pile of coats, and underneath those Robbe could see in the harsh fluorescent light a checked blanket folded up. He grabbed it, accidentally disturbing a couple making out on the sofa which he hadn’t noticed, and then saw to his left the door to the balcony, which had been propped open with a shoe. He went outside. It was cold, but nothing unusual for Antwerp in November. He made is way down to the end of the balcony where the foreigners were curled up and leaning against the wall.

“Thank you, our saviour!” said the boy in the corner. He passed the joint, stood up and grabbed the blanket, spreading it over the knees of his two friends and himself as he sat again.

“Hey, join us!” said the boy who had spoken to him first.

“OK!” Robbe smiled, and sat next to the boy in the corner so that they were all sitting in an L shape, and leant back against the railings of the balcony.

“What’s your name?” asked the boy in the middle, who Robbe could identify in the dim darkness as a redhead.

“I’m Robbe.”

The one who had spoken stuck a hand out from the blanket in Robbe’s direction. “I’m Giovanni. But everyone calls me Gio.” 

Robbe shook the hand which grabbed the joint on the way back to its owner.

“Martino,” said the redhead and “Elia,” said the boy in the corner. Robbe shook their hands too.

“You know I am too much drunk to remember your names,” Robbe chuckled apologetically.

“No problem,” said Martino. “You can just remember us as the three coolest Italian dudes at this party.”

“Ah,” breathed Robbe in recognition. “You’re Italian?”

Gio flashed him a disarmingly charming smile. “Of course. We are the three coolest people at this party.”

“Did you not hear our accent?” asked Elia.

“Yes, but I’m not so… understanding. Sorry, my English isn’t working today. I am just so drunk.”

“You seem OK,” said Gio.

“So then I must drink more!”

The boys all laughed, and Martino said, “Do you drink to forget?”

Robbe paused for a moment. “No. To remember, I think. To remember what I should do.”

Gio leaned forward and handed him the joint. “Sounds like you need some of this, my friend.”

“Thanks.” Robbe said, taking the joint and inhaling deeply, feeling the drug work its magic almost straight away.

They fell into a friendly conversation as Robbe asked them about themselves. They were from Rome, and all went to high school together and had all started uni the year before. Though they were studying different things, they had decided to take an Erasmus year together, and the only place available to all of them was the university of Antwerp. Gio was studying Economics and didn’t have an opportunity to study here but had a job working for the arts college as an international officer. The drugs and booze had slowed Robbe’s reaction times but still this name registered in his mind with all the force of a hammer blow.

“Uh… you work at the Koninklijke Academie voor Schone Kunsten?” Robbe blurbled out, his mind awake but his mouth going to sleep.

Gio laughed, and there was that smile again. Robbe had found him really quite unnerving with his easy good looks and those crystal clear eyes that even in the darkness had a way of catching his gaze. “Yeah. Though I can’t pronounce it as good as you can!”  
Robbe gulped, knowing he was about to say something and go down a path he never would have gone down if he had been sober. “I know someone who studies there.”

“Oh really? A friend of yours?” Gio asked.

“Yep,” said Robbe. “Well, I don’t know if he is a friend.”

“What does he look like?”

“Um…” Robbe knew all too well, but found recalling Sander’s face as he had last seen it painful to remember. “Blonde hair, but bleached, like Bowie in the 80s. Kind of tall. Wears a lot of black. Smooth, shiny skin,” he could hear himself rambling drunkenly but couldn’t stop. “A little scar just here,” he pointed to just next to his right eye. “And blue eyes. No, green. Actually, both. They are the colour of the sea.”

“Uhuh,” breathed Martino, exhaling smoke, and scrunching his eyes knowingly.

“What’s his name?” asked Gio. “Perhaps I have met him.”

“I’m not sure if you have… he’s called Sander, he is in the first year.” Robbe gave a sigh that surprised him with its depth and weight. He looked up to where the stars ought to have been, unsure why he suddenly felt so sad.

When he looked back, the Italian boys were exchanging glances and Gio was shrugging his shoulders at Elia, who had his bottom lip stuck out and his palms upward as if to suggest he didn’t know something. But it was Martino who spoke, and in their stoned and tipsy minds, this seemed like the perfect time and place to discuss this.

“And this boy, he is the one making you feel sad?”

Robbe looked startled for a moment, before drunkenly remembering that these boys were his new best friends and there was no one else who knew him as well as they did right now. And he suddenly felt like talking, trying to understand what was in his head.

“Yeah.” 

Elia handed him the joint and said, “You can talk to Gio. He is the mago dell’amore. The love wizard.”

Martino nodded, eyes closed. “Yep. Without him, I would not be with my boyfriend right now.”

“Really? You’re…” Robbe didn’t finish the question as Martino raised his eyebrows at him. “How did you do that?” he asked Gio instead.

But it was Elia who answered. “You tell him what’s wrong, he will magically make it go away.”

Gio pulled a face of incredulous disbelief but he was clearly loving it. Robbe said, “That sounds good, cause I am really stuck with this one.”

Gio took the joint from Robbe and tapped the ashes into his empty beer. “Hit me.”

Robbe took a deep breath. “So yeah. This guy - Sander. I think I am in love with him.” Cue raised eyebrows amongst the Italians. “I think he loves me too.”

“Well, what do you need me for then?” asked Gio, drawing on the weed.

“I don’t think we can be together. Or maybe we can. But we have known each other only three weeks or something, and already we have hurt each other a lot, and I am worried maybe we are not good for each other.”

Elia nodded sagely, and Martino clicked his tongue. “Sounds a lot like when Niccolò and I first knew each other.”

“Is that it?” asked Gio, gently.

“No. There’s another thing. So, he hurt me because he kissed his ex girlfriend when he said he loved me.”

“Ouch,” said Elia. “Nico did the same didn’t he, Marti?”

Martino shook his head and said under his breath, “Let’s not talk about that.”

“Anyway. Yesterday… I kind of did the same. But with my best friend.”

“What?” exclaimed Elia.

Robbe wished he had a beer right now, and thought of Jens back in the party, wondering where he had gone. “Yeah. My best friend told me he thought he might like guys too. This was last night. So…”

“You kissed him,” finished Elia.

Robbe felt himself sobering up slowly with the full weight of all of the thoughts crashing round in his skull. “Yes. And it wasn’t just that. But I think I have liked him for a long time. He was the first boy I ever had a crush on. I thought it had gone away… but… it’s still there.”

Robbe was not very clear headed at the moment but he still noticed Gio and Martino exchange a long, meaningful look, before  
Martino coughed and looked away, taking the joint.

Gio turned to Robbe slowly. “So you don’t know what to do.”

“Exactly.” Robbe shook his head slowly. “I think I love Sander. But if Jens likes me… I don’t know what to do. I love our friendship, and I want to stay friends with him. But when we kissed yesterday, it felt so right, especially after liking him for so long. But I don’t want to go further and then break up and lose him forever. But at the same time, I want to try.”

There was a few moments’ silence, broken by Elia coughing as he inhaled too much smoke from the now nearly dead joint. He asked his friends something in Italian, which Robbe guessed had something to do with killing the joint, as he took one last long drag and flicked the butt off the balcony into the night below.

“That is a tough one. Even for the mago dell’amore.” Gio sighed pensively. “I would say, follow your heart, but you don’t know where it is at the moment. If you love Sandro then I am sure your love will be stronger than what comes between you. But if you are looking for something uncomplicated and easy, it might be interesting to see where it goes with Jens.”

An appreciative chuckle escaped from Elia. “Woah, fra. That’s some deep shit.”

“Well I don’t know,” said Gio, suddenly coming over bashful. “Roberto, wait and see. I think the answer will come to you.”

Robbe sighed a little disappointedly that he didn’t get any more fir answer from this Giovanni, whose friends clearly admired him as some sort of matchmaker. He was about to push for a concrete answer, any answer, he just wanted a name so he could know what to do. But he hesitated and realised that maybe Gio was right. He just had to wait and see what happened, and who came to him. He let the silence hang in the air.

But Martino broke it, a laugh bursting from his lips. He swore in Italian and clapped Gio on the shoulder. “Where was this when I needed it, eh?” There was a beat between them almost unnoticeable, before Martino dragged his gaze back out over the balcony into the glowing darkness.

Elia and Gio started laughing too and talking amongst themselves, leaving Robbe, stoned and spaced out, to think about his two boys. But the Italian chatter soon broke off and he felt Elia nudging him with his elbow as someone addressed him in Flemish.

“There you are, Robbe. I’ve been looking all over for you. I got you your beer.” Jens stood before Robbe, the light from the kitchen casting contours over his angular face. Robbe stared up at him, taking the beer, and wondering if he had ever seen him look so… hot. Maybe he had. But this was the first time he had been allowed to think it.

Elia’s voice broke his thoughts. “Who is this, Roberto?”

Robbe looked round and smiled, having almost forgotten about his new best friends. “This is Jens. Jens, this is…” he paused, and took the beer Jens was offering. “Sorry, I’ve already forgotten your names.”

They introduced themselves as Jens shook their hands. Gio and Martino each made a suggestive wink and raised their eyebrows behind Jens’ back. And Robbe felt proud that other people found Jens hot but Jens had wanted to kiss him. Suddenly things seemed quite clear. 

“Nice to meet you guys.” Jens turned to Robbe but continued in English. “Aaron and Moyo are busy flirting but there’s a really good DJ in there. Do you want to go in and dance?” His warm, gooey eyes were latched onto Robbe’s, and Robbe felt a wave of slight panic at his attraction to his best friend be washed over by the memory of their kiss.

“Yeah. I’m kind of stoned though, not sure I will be much good at dancing.”

Jens parted with those intensely kissable lips with a small smile. “OK. I can hold you up,” he said, and reached out a hand to pull Robbe up. Robbe lurched uneasily to his feet, but kept his hand in Jens’, who for his part did not let go either. Their fingers started to wrap around one another as they both remembered and acknowledged yesterday to one another. 

Gio noticed this, and said from the ground, “OK guys. See you in there.”

Jens glanced back up to Robbe’s tipsy features then lead him away down the balcony, through the door and back into the party, which Robbe felt he was re-entering as a different person. He let Jens pull him, their fingers twisted together like they would never let go.

Back on the balcony, the Italian boys were exchanging glances with each other. 

Martino remarked to Gio, “He kind of looked like Elia, didn’t he.”

Gio smiled. He had thought the same thing himself. “Yeah. But much better looking.”

Elia leaned over to thump Gio, but in his intoxicated state landed sprawled on the floor, giggling on his back like a baby.

“Dunno about you,” Martino said, staring straight into Gio’s eyes, and remembering the time that they too had kissed, once, drunkenly at a party. Marti was sure Gio didn’t remember it, but listening to Robbe’s story had brought it all back to him. Gio would always remain his first crush, and he knew the feeling Robbe felt - if Gio ever turned round to him and said anything like Jens had said to Robbe, Martino would be there in a heartbeat. “Dunno bout you,” he continued, shoving those thoughts to the back of his mind. “But I would.”

Somewhere deep in Gio’s heart a reply resonated, but he wouldn’t even admit it to himself, let alone to Martino, his best friend. But he had felt it when Jens has come out, warm, tall, and so… gentle. And he thought quietly to himself, “So would I.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday morning, 9:02am and afternoon, 4:04pm. Things with Robbe and Jens escalate as they work out what their relationship is now.

Robbe experienced quite a lot of new things at that party.

The first was genuine appreciation for Moyo and Aaron. They were so obsessed with some girls they had met playing beer pong that they spent the whole evening without disturbing Jens and Robbe.

The second was trying to dance to a dodgy hiphop playlist when he was just too out of it to stand. He felt like he was flying and falling at the same time, but he felt safe, with Jens’ hands on his hips or his arms wrapped around his neck.

And that was the third thing. The feeling of falling for his best friend.

Once they were sure they had got rid of Moyo and Aaron, Jens had pulled Robbe onto the dance floor with a big grin on his face. They had danced awkwardly at first, not sure how to behave with each other, and worried about going too far. Robbe had never been the most natural mover, always having a sort of self-abasing shyness to his moves. So Jens stepped it up, shouting the words to Robbe, pulling on his hands, twisting him round, and jumping and swaying with all he had. Robbe had felt himself loosen up and then he had let himself go as Jens had kissed him. He wasn’t sure where it had come from, he was far too intoxicated to work anything out. It had felt like the most natural thing in the world though, how they had come together like magnets, and this time he didn’t mind breaking off to let him go because he knew he would be back for more. Robbe tried not to think bittersweet thoughts of Sander and how he had held on to that, before Sander had slipped away from him anyway. But Jens, Robbe felt, was going nowhere.

They had stayed there though, for minutes, hours or even days, Robbe couldn’t tell, dancing like thirteen year-olds at a school disco, arms wrapped around each other and smiling at themselves. They had been on their own little planet, where the currency was kisses and giggles and silly things said into each other’s ear.

But somehow, they got home, and Robbe has only vague recollections of how they managed that. He remembers seeing the Italian boys again, who had migrated indoors out of the cold and were furiously playing table football. Jens jumped in on Martino’s team and Robbe was happy to slump against the wall, grinning like a fool at his best friend, loving the fact that he was now allowed to stare at his beauty. After that, the next moment Robbe could remember was waking up at home in his bed.

The light streamed in cold and grey through the window as Robbe fluttered his eyes open. He had been woken by the sound some footsteps moving about and as his eyes focused he could see the silhouette of Jens as he pulled his trousers on. Robbe breathed deeply and said his name.

Jens turned to Robbe, the light catching on his bare torso and the bones of his face. Robbe blinked hard and told himself to remember the image. Then the next thing he knew, Jens was sliding into bed next to Robbe, where Robbe remembered he had been all night. It started to come back to Robbe, how he had woken from sleep to find smooth, scented skin against his face, and felt the warmth of Jens’ body in the pocket he made with his own. The warm comfort of knowing Jens was there and the incredrible privilege of being able to spoon him like this had sent Robbe back to sleep with a contented glow, until the excitement and incredulity the whole situation awoke in him had woken him up again.

Jens lay back now, face turned to Robbe, and planted a kiss on his forehead, running a hand over his neck and scrunching his long hair. “I’m glad I don’t have to leave without saying goodbye,” he murmured, gently.

Robbe, still waking up, processed this a moment then asked worriedly, “You were going to leave?”

Jens smiled and breathed a small laugh, which made Robbe instinctively think of Sander, a thought he quickly suppressed. “I have to work, Robbe. You know that. I told you last night.”

Robbe couldn’t really remember, but muttered, “Oh yeah.”

“I don’t want to be late, and you need to go back to sleep.” Jens sat up to pull on some socks, and Robbe instinctively lifted a hand to trace over his back, reading it like Braille. “It’s already nearly nine.” He pulled away from Robbe and stood again, eyes scanning the floor. “Where’s my T-shirt, Robbe?”

Robbe closed his eyes and flumped back onto the pillow, not ready for Jens leaving yet. “I don’t know.”

Jens looked at him, knowing from years of experience what the look on Robbe’s face meant. It was the same one he had always pulled when he didn’t want to go to lessons or stop playing Call of Duty. He didn’t want this to be over.

“Well, then,” he shrugged. “I suppose I’ll just have to take yours.”

With that, Jens leapt back on to the bed and straddled Robbe, kneeling on the mattress either side of his legs. Robbe flicked his eyes open at the impact and leant up as Jens began pulling the duvet off him. When he had uncovered Robbe’s torso, he slipped his long, practised fingers under the bottom hem of Robbe’s T-shirt, feeling the firm but supple skin underneath. The fingertips sparked Robbe awake with pleasure as Jens slowly pushed his way up Robbe’s abs and up to his nipples, drawing the shirt higher and revealing more of Robbe’s surprisingly muscley body, pale and white as innocence in the cold morning.

Robbe sat up with a glint in his eyes as Jens grinned cheekily. He grabbed the bottom of the black material and Robbe let him pull it up over his arms and head like he was a baby. When Jens had pulled the T shirt off, he slipped it on his own body. It was a little tight and Robbe felt an enormous amount of pleasure seeing him wear it, like Jens was inside him, and that Jens was wearing him like a medal. The black cloth pulled over Jens’ taut muscles, wrapping them like a present for Robbe to unwrap later. He could feel himself starting to get aroused and wished more than ever than Jens did not have to go.

Jens winked at Robbe, who must have been staring at him. “A bit snug but it will do. Now I can take you with me today.” Robbe leaned forward, hoping to catch him in a kiss, but Jens leant over to slip his shoes on and pick up his jacket.

“Jens,” Robbe moaned, pleadingly.

Jens slipped his jacket on but just before he left, leant down to plant one last kiss on Robbe’s soft lips. It was rich with what they had between them and the promise of things to come. Robbe grabbed his own T-shirt and pulled Jens in, cauing Jens to have to reach out and steady himself on Robbe’s now bare torso. Robbe felt so hungry for Jens and even more so when he finally pulled away.

“Gotta go, dude. See you later.” Jens pulled back, ruffled a hand through Robbe’s hair and went to open the door. Just before he left, he turned and looked at Robbe for a moment, drinking him in, so small and pure and trusting. He looked like he was about to say something, but thought better of it, and left.

Robbe fell backwards onto the pillow with a happy sigh. In his warm bubble he lay there, stunned, and gradually fell asleep again, smiling to himself.

* * *

But just as Robbe was feeling so sure and safe with Jens, the real world had to come crashing back in.

Robbe was lying on his bed and looking at that mural again. He couldn’t help it. It meant something, and something big, but Robbe wasn’t quite sure if he understood it, or whether he was ready to accept it.

Obviously that had to be the moment Milan chose to stick his nose in.

Robbe was grateful for his advice - kind of. He liked the fact that Milan had told him the truth about how things were and didn’t try to disguise it from him. But he hated Milan too, for making him realise that Sander can’t have been as in love as Robbe had been. Whatever this mural meant, Robbe knew now there was no going back to those infinite afternoons in bed when they had crossed galaxies in each other’s arms. 

And Robbe tried not to, but he hated Milan for encouraging him to break up with Noor and go after Sander. He had screwed his whole life up for some boy who clearly didn’t want him, however much he might care about him. Now, his life was unrecognisable and tied down to an anchor that had been pulled away by the storm.

But Robbe also hated himself for holding on. Because somewhere deep down he wasn’t quite ready to give up on Sander yet. He knew how that tornado of a boy had shaken him up and he would never forget that Chernobyl moment when his world had changed. He had to admit it, he would always love Sander. And he secretly held on to that mural as if it could still hold some hope for them.

The only thing good to come out of the last few weeks, though, Robbe thought, was Jens. It wasn’t world-changing, yet. But Jens felt like a sunny day in the middle of winter. What they had, whatever it was, kept him calm. It didn’t possess him like what he felt for Sander had done, but it gently reassured him. And Robbe felt that could make him happier than Sander could ever have done.

He got a text from Jens asking him to meet after work. Robbe felt flattered and excited and tried not to waste the whole four hours until then doodling Jens’ name in his school books like a child.

Jens worked at a large, bustling cafe in the centre of Antwerp, close to their school and to the Fine Arts Academy (not “Sander’s college”, Robbe told himself). It was always lively with its bright aesthetic and large, open plan layout and gentle Alt-J playing in the background. Robbe was a few minutes late (he didn’t want to seem too keen) and Jens had already finished his shift, hung up his apron, and was leaning over the counter chatting to his colleagues. Robbe noticed him from behind and a small smile played across his face as he saw his own T-shirt peeking out under Jens’ hoodie. Robbe had found Jens’ T-shirt but had stuffed it under his pillow, hoping Jens might come and collect it. 

He sauntered up and rested a hand on Jens’ back, nothing, the thought, that could be misconstrued. “Hey,” he murmured, sliding his headphones down around his neck.

Jens stood up and smiled, and Robbe let his hand fall down Jens’ spine. “Hello, you,” he said. “What would you like to drink?”

“Um, just a normal coffee, please.”

“Two normal coffees, please, then, Abbie,” Jens asked his colleague, who started to get them ready. Jens leaned an arm around Robbe’s shoulder and Robbe felt uncomfortable for a moment before he remembered that this was OK now. Jens said to him in a low voice, “look, Robbe. You OK to chill here for a bit?”

“Yeah, sure,” Robbe said, disappointed a little. 

Abbie handed them their coffees. “Is that everything, Jens?”

“No, actually. Can I pay for three espressos to pick up when our friends get here?”

As Abbie nodded and started keying Jens’ order in, Robbe’s heart sank. He would have liked to have been alone with Jens but he realised now with a jump that they couldn’t live in isolation forever. But who were the others? Not… Aaron and Moyo? Dread filled Robbe in case they had worked something out. But then who was the third coffee for? The name Sander flashed up in his mind before he could stop it, and the feeling that came with it was a potent mix of excitement and fear.

But Jens paid and they took their coffees over to the table football table which had just become free. As they kicked off, needing no words to start since they had done this so many times before, Robbe ventured, “I thought it was going to be just us.”

“Sorry Robbe. It will be later. But I thought it would be nice to hang out.”

Robbe didn’t know whether to let Jens know he was disappointed but he kept the tone light. “OK, sure.”

Neither of them looked up, focused like machines on the game. “Yeah, I got a text and thought you should come and hang out too. I mean, it’s Sunday - you can’t stay in your room all day.” Jens’ words rankled Robbe slightly, as if Jens had said that room hadn’t been just as special for him that very morning. But Robbe decided to let it go.

“So, who’s coming?” Robbe asked, but the question was answered not by a name but by a loud shout of, “Eeeeey!” as a grinning, curly haired boy in a denim jacket and a yellow beanie clapped Jens on the back. Robbe looked up, annoyed at being disturbed from their game, and recognised the boy as…

“Gio!” Jens supplied. “Cool you could make it!” he continued in English.

Gio smiled and moved round the table to shake Robbe’s hand. “I hope it is OK that we come, Roberto. I just texted Jens to see if he wanted a rematch at football and he said we could come.”

So that’s why Jens was playing table football with him. Robbe may have been thinking irrationally but he felt stung. He felt like he would just have to wait to have Jens’ attention again. He shook Gio’s hand though nevertheless, a bit surprised to see him again and so soon after the party. And suddenly he remembered an image of last night - him baring his soul to these strangers whom he thought he’s never see again, confessing his love for Sander…

“Hi Gio,” Robbe mumbled quickly, before adding in a quiet voice, “Look. Don’t mention anything of what I said to you guys last night, OK?”

Gio chuckled and wrapped his other hand around their handshake. “Don’t worry, my friend. The mago dell’amore never kisses and tells.” He laughed, then said, “or should I say, spells and tells. Like magic spells, you know? Cause I am a wizard!” Robbe smiled, relieved and mollified by this boy’s easy and friendly nature. Robbe turned toward the boys who had followed Gio in and shook their hands too, first Martino, then Elia. 

“Would you like to be on our team?" Gio asked Robbe, who was a bit annoyed that teams had already been allocated and he seemed to have been left out. But he tried not to seem bitter, for Jens' sake.

“OK, sure.”

“But first,” called Jens as Robbe noticed Abbie approching, “coffee!” She put the tray with its three tiny mugs down on the end of the football table and the Italians snatched them up, Marti emptying three sachets of sugar into his. 

“Grazie, Jens,” said Gio, raising his cup to him and taking a sip. Robbe told himself to stop overthinking.

“Hey,” said Elia. “If Robbe is Roberto then Jens has to be Gianni!” 

Gio pulled a face that looked like it was asking Elia what on Earth he was going on about, but Martino shrugged. “I like it.”

“Ok, then I will say dank je wel, Gianni.”

Jens laughed and Robbe felt a little buzz of affection for his boy. Of course, his jealousy meant that he was concerned that Gio was flirting with him… but he dismissed that idea as ridiculous.

Marti drained his coffee and grasped the handles of the table. Robbe held the tray as with murmurs of thanks the boys put their mugs down and Robbe took them back to the counter. When he returned, the game had already started. Feeling a little left out, Robbe stood next to Martino and focused on the ball.

“This time we are going to beat your ass,” called Gio to his opponents.

“Yeah Gianni,” chimed in Martino. “You are going down.”

Jens gasped in disbelief. “Hey that’s not fair! Half of my team is Italian.”

“Uh, I don’t believe you. He looks like your clone,” laughed Gio without looking up from the game.

“Hey yeah!” Martino threw a momentary glance their way. “I hadn’t noticed that before. Hey Elia, isn’t your mum from Belgium?”

Elia laughed sarcastically. “Fuck you. She’s Spanish, as you know.”

Gio joined in, “Didn’t your parents take their honeymoon in Belgium though? Are you sure your dad looked after her?”

“Shut up. No, they went to Sardegna. Leave me alone.” Elia slammed the ball with his defenders for good measure.

“You guys do look similar though,” chimed in Robbe. 

“You don’t see me complaining, do you?” said Martino, hands raised for a moment before they were back on the handles.

Gio laughed. “Just because you’re Mr Gay Pride now doesn’t mean you can perv on every boy you see. You’re turning into Filippo!”

Robbe noticed Elia blush and bite his lip at this boy’s name. “Well he would know how good looking is Elia…” said Martino, just under his breath.

Robbe grinned despite himself at this drama going on in front of him and wished he could learn more. But the conversation stopped as the ball clattered in the Jens’ and Elia’s goal. Gio and Martino high-fived and put the ball back into play without pausing.

“You guys are really good,” said Robbe. 

“We practise a lot,” replied Elia. “You must have seen us yesterday!”

“No, Robbe was drunk out of his mind yesterday. I almost had to carry him home.” Jens put in. The Italians shared a beat of silence and Robbe imagined they would have winked at each other if they had not been looking at the game. He hoped they would not say anything about their conversation last night.

But they didn’t and the game continued. They offered to let Robbe play, but he had moved on from feeling left out and now accepted that he couldn’t match up to the other boys. It annoyed him how easily Jens got on with them all and he felt a little jealous what they should be friends with him and not with himself. Maybe he had just annoyed them all yesterday. Robbe tried broaching the topic on the walk back to his flat with Jens a few hours and many matches of table football later. He didn’t want to sound jealous but he wanted to clear the air nonetheless.

“I didn’t know you had made friends with them yesterday.”

Jens shrugged. “Playing footie with them was the least I could do to thank them for looking after you on the balcony.” 

“Did they tell you what we talked about?”

“No.” Jens hated drama and knew that some things ought to be kept secret so didn’t probe. “But they did get you properly stoned though.”

Robbe, however, was always a bit suspicious of people, especially when it came to boys that he liked, so he kept up the conversation. “It was cool that you got their number yesterday so we could hang out today.”

“Well yeah. Gio wanted to give me his number so we can have a rematch. I texted him this morning so it was pretty cool he had nothing on this afternoon.” This was not the answer that Robbe wanted to hear, and if anything his jealousy increased. He was worried Gio might have an ulterior motive and now Robbe knew that Jens was curious to experiment with guys he felt extremely protective of their fledgling relationship. 

He lapsed into silence, but Jens knew him too well, and understood what Robbe was thinking, and laced his little finger around Robbe’s for reassurance. “Robbe, you have nothing to worry about. I think he’s straight as they come.”

Robbe chuckled, feeling silly for even thinking such a thing. “I’m not sure your gaydar is in top condition though. It didn’t spot me.”

“Neither did it spot me,” laughed Jens, before smiling his eyes at Robbe’s. “Anyway, I’m with you now, aren’t I?”

Robbe grinned as wide as his mouth would allow. “Yeah,” he whispered as they turned into Robbe’s street. “I guess you are.”  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday night, 9:27. Robbe and the Broerrs go to a party. Robbe gets a nasty surprise and Jens gets drunk and angry.
> 
> Trigger warning: Homophobic slurs

Robbe had no idea things could be like this in real life. Or at least he had no idea they could be like this for him.

His life had changed gear suddenly. Before this week it had been knotted with problems and tensions as Robbe sped from one disaster to another, trying to avoid making anything in his life worse than it already was. His mum, his dad, his mates, his sexuality, Sander - he had tried to deal with his issues by avoiding them all as much as possible. He didn’t have anywhere to go and had isolated himself and felt terrible.

But now he felt like he had come out of that storm-tossed sea into a clear, smooth harbour, and had come to land in Jens. His life moved slower, and more steadily. He had always loved his best friend and they way they could talk and spend time together like it was fresh every day. But since that kiss and the weekend that followed where they had opened up to one another, they both felt like they had a license to give all of themselves to the other, knowing they would be gratefully received. And it was that knowing that Jens was always going to be there for him now that Robbe loved so incredulously.

Though, obviously, Jens couldn’t be there for him all the time. Especially after Sander had walked out of his life, Robbe had wanted to keep Jens as near as possible. He knew he was being stupid, but it hurt him when Jens went to work or skate or even go home. He wanted to spend all his time with Jens now, but he worried, irrationally, that Jens didn’t feel the same. When he had mentioned it last night in bed, kissing his best friend’s neck on his favourite part of the skin, where his jaw curves up to meet his ear, Jens had laughed it off. Of course he loved spending time with Robbe, but the rest of his life was still going on, he reminded him.

Robbe had to be content with that. Sometimes, though, he caught himself thinking about what Jens had said in the kitchen. He had said that he thought about guys, in general. That he would like to see what it would be like with a guy, unspecified. It had been Robbe that had kissed him first and sometimes he worried that Jens had just gone along with it to see what it was like, and that he was here with him now just because it was easy. Robbe was naturally anxious, and since he had found out Sander was only experimenting too and did not plan on leaving Britt, he needed to be reassured even more that Jens was not going anywhere. But those small moments, when Jens flashed him a secret smile at school, or quickly brushed his fingers as they were passing in the corridor, or that time when he had snatched a kiss from Robbe in an otherwise deserted locker room, those moments calmed Robbe and persuaded him to trust in Jens like he had once trusted Sander.

Sander. When Robbe was with Jens, he found himself thinking less and less about what they had had, though he couldn’t help comparing his experiences then with the things he was feeling with Jens. It would be a while till he forgot him, but Robbe felt it was starting to hurt less now, and he was glad Jens didn’t make him lose control over himself and fall head over heels like Sander had done. It was just a different kind of love, Robbe thought. And he knew which one he preferred.

Hours alone dragged by when Jens wasn’t there. It was only a few days since they had got together but Jens had already filled his life up with his presence. Robbe had wanted to hang around after school but Jens needed to go home and look after his little sister so Robbe was trying to concentrate on his homework in his room. Thankfully though, they were going to a party that night with the Broerrrs, and the thought of seeing Jens again kept him going, though he worried about not being as close with him as he would like to be in front of Moyo and Aaron. But just seeing Jens would be enough, he thought.

Jens picked him up at around 9 and they cycled over to the party. It was a schoolnight but tomorrow was only Wednesday - they could sleep through their morning of lessons and chill out in the afternoon. Normally people didn’t party mid-week at their school, but this party was being thrown by some girls Moyo and Aaron had met on Saturday who went to the uni. 

They met the others outside and walked up to the flat on the first floor where the party was being held. It wasn’t a large flat and made to feel all the smaller from all the people packed inside it. It was loud from the voices and hot and as Moyo and Aaron elbowed their way in to find their chickies, Robbe nudged Jens and they headed in the direction of the fridge. 

They got a couple of cold beers and cracked them open, drinking them down thirstily. Aaron and Moyo came over to get some too.

“You found your girls yet, dudes?” Jens asked them with a smile.

“Not yet, but it’s all chill. Check out the amount of gash here!” Moyo excalaimed with an appreciative whistle. His crassness made Robbe wince and he thought briefly how Moyo might react when he found out what he and Jens had been up to. He didn’t like to imagine it.

“I wrote to Amber to invite her, but she hasn’t replied,” Aaron added, slightly dismayed.

“Never mind about Amber! I’m sure even you could find someone here tonight.” Moyo said, clapping him on the back before reaching in for another couple of beers. “Red strappy top at 2 o’clock,” he said to Aaron, pointing in the direction of the blonde girl he had spotted. “Let’s go see if she’s thirsty,” and sticking his tongue out with a wink, he was off, Aaron following behind.

If the night was going to continue like this, Robbe thought the best way of dealing with it would be to keep drinking. He and Jens mooched around the party and played a bit of beer pong as Robbe gulped down tin after tin. Before long, on his fourth, or maybe his fifth beer, he felt better - but not really in a good way. The alcohol had hardened his mood and he just felt a bit fed up. He felt he was dealing with it, but he was in fact a bit grumpy.

So he was happy when Jens suggested they go outside to smoke. A chance to talk to him alone and calm down, that was just what he needed. They tried to go out on the balcony but it was crammed, so they wove their way through to the hallway, then the door, then the stairs down to the ground floor. Robbe was focussed on the steps, concentrating in his tipsy state so he didn’t miss any, so he was quite surprised when his shoulder slammed into something warm. He had crashed into someone as he was going down, and raised his swirling vision to see who it was. The two boys recognised each other straight away.

“Hey Robbe,” the cloud of silver hair at the top of Sander’s head said. Robbe, ususally much more talkative when drunk, for once had nothing to say.

Just then, Jens appeared at his side, stopping walking when he clocked who Robbe was talking to, or rather, who he wasn’t talking to.

“Hi Jens,” Sander said with a brief nod. He looked back to Robbe, who was trying to stop Sander’s face from spinning and must have been staring. “How are you doing?” he asked, and reached out a hand to Robbe’s arm.

Robbe leant into his touch for a moment, before drawing back sharply and realising what was going on. 

Jens saw the touch though and took a step towards Sander, staring down at him. Robbe realised that Jens was just as drunk as he was, if not more. And drunk Jens liked to fight. “What are you doing here?” Jens asked without emotion.

Robbe looked from Sander to Jens and back again a few times as Sander withdrew his hand from his arm. But Sander ignored Jens and spoke again to Robbe. “I’ve missed you.”

Robbe felt the room spin and he gulped, suddenly feeling the alcohol churning up his latent feelings for Sander. He dropped his eyes back to his feet and decided to concentrate again on the initial plan - putting one foot in front of the other until he was outside. 

“See you outside, Jens,” he addressed the stairs as he pushed his way between them.

He reached the bottom and ambled down the dark tiled corridor out through the main door and into the cool, clear night. He slumped down on the pavement before deciding to walk around the block once to clear his head. He staggered to his feet, and with one hand tracing the wall for support, he started idling along the pavement, hoping Jens would wait for him, but not wanting to go inside to get him. He was unnerved at how much seeing Sander had confused him and he thought it best to keep his distance.

That was just as well, because inside, Jens was still staring at Sander, a look of drunken rage in his eye. Robbe, focussed on getting out of there had not noticed Jens begin to speak as he walked away. 

“What are you doing?” Jens had asked Sander. “Leave him alone. He doesn’t want to speak to you.” He turned, going to follow Robbe down the stairs. 

“I need him to talk to me,” Sander said, putting his beer down on the step and clattering down the stairs after Jens. “I need to talk to him.”

They had reached the empty ground floor and Jens snapped, catching Sander’s arm and holding him still in the hall. In front of them, the main door opened and closed, letting in a mellow shaft of light that silhouetted Robbe as he left. “You want to go and hurt him more?” he asked with contemptuous incredulity.

Sander tried to shake his arm free. “It’s not like that…” he begun.

Jens scoffed. “Do you just like exploiting emotionally vulnerable boys?”

“No, not at all!” Sander sighed helplessly. “I…” he took a quick gulp. “I’m in love with him.”

Jens let go of Sander’s arm, laughing unkindly. He was pretty drunk, and he felt like being nasty. “Well, tough. Cause he’s with me now and I’m just going to look after him.”

Now it was Sander’s turn to get angry. After a moment of disbelieving silence, he said in a voice calm with rage, “What the fuck do you mean, he’s with you?”

Jens smirked. “Yeah, bitch - looks like he just needed someone who could treat him as he deserves.” 

He began to swagger off, but this time Sander held him back, and pushed him against the wall in the shadow of the stairs. “What the fuck do you know about that?”

“I’m not gonna mess him around like you did, you prick.”

Sander began to raise his voice. “He messed me around! he said he didn’t want me…”

“But then he came back right? He broke up with his girlfriend for you, and you kissed Britt right in fucking front of him.” Jens smiled, in his drunkenness enjoying the fight he knew he was winning. 

“I didn’t know he had seen that… anyway I’ve broken up with Britt now!” Sander’s voice was rising in frustration.

“Doesn’t matter, you shouldn’t have fucking done it! I know he was just some experiment for you.”

Sander blinked. “Well maybe at first… but then I…”

Jens cut him off. “Oh right, you like experimenting with boys then?” Jens stared down at Sander, loving that he was making him squirm. Then out of nowhere, he said, “Experiment with this, you faggot”

Boiling with fury, he landed his lips on Sander’s, who was pinning him against the wall. He kissed with a spiteful rage which his drunken mind translated into burning passion as he chased Sander’s lips with his own. He licked him and darted his tongue into his mouth, loving the fact that he didn’t pull away just yet, blindly trying to catch each kiss between his lips before Sander caught him with his own. But the moment only lasted a second or two, as Jens drew back and pushed a stunned Sander off him. They stared at each other with a mix of hatred, disbelief and desire, before Jens tutted.

“Poof,” he muttered, before turning to go.

But Sander caught his arm and forced him to turn back.

“Seems like you’re experimenting too, you fag,” he said with a laughing disdain.

Jens shrugged. “Maybe I am, but I don’t need to lie about it and break someone’s heart.”

“So Robbe knows you kiss other boys then? Shall I go and get him in here to watch?” Sander was now as angry as Jens had been - angry that Jens had kissed him, but more angry that he had let him carry on. And he was angry for Robbe, who was waiting for his best friend outside.

“I’ll tell him and he will understand.” Jens told him, before adding, “Beause he loves me.”

“He won’t like that you kissed me. You know he still likes me.” Sander wasn’t sure if this was true, but spat the words out anyway.

Jens seemed unfazed. “I’m his best friend, mate, you’ve lost. He loves me.”

But Sander realised he had touched a sore point and said spitefully, “I bet he sees my face when you kiss him.”

Jens began to look rankled and his eyebrows lowered furiously, taking another step towards Sander and shaking his head. “Shut up mate, or I swear…”

Sander cut him off. “I bet he says my name when you fuck him.”

Sander spat the last words out and Jens shut him up with another furious kiss, even deeper, rougher and breathier than the last. Jens bit Sander’s lip and Sander couldn’t help but melt under his touch, under the heat of their argument. Jens grabbed the back of Sander’s head and wrapped his other arm around his back, pulling him in as close as he could and pressing his body against his own. Jens drank in Sander as if he could put out the flame inside his own body but knowing that he was only fanning it hotter. 

Gasping for air, he pulled away, but didn’t let Sander go from his embrace. “Fuck me, mate,” he murmured on Sander’s lips with a smile. “I can see what Robbe saw in you now.”

Sander would not have wanted to be disloyal to Robbe usually, but he was drunk and hurting from the fact that Robbe had moved on so quickly already. He whispered to Jens, teasingly, “He doesn’t deserve you, you know. You’re such a loyal boyfriend.”

Jens pulled back a bit. “Fuck off, I treat him better than you ever did.” He had used up a lot of his anger in the kiss, but still, he wasn’t just teasing.

“I bet he doesn’t kiss you like this otherwise you’d be with him right now,” muttered Sander.

Jens shook his head in disbelief. “You are such a prick, you know, you think you’re this massive heartthrob with this edgy look and your hair…”

Sander smothered the end of the sentence with a laugh as he tilted his head back. “I can’t believe it… why do I have this effect on closeted guys…”

Jens bit his lip, then said, “Shut the fuck up, you bellend.”

He reached for Sander’s lips a third time, truly making out with him like he had never done with Robbe. Maybe it was just the passion of their argument, or maybe the fact that he really was attracted to him. But there was a fire that stirred in him when their lips met, and maybe it was just the drink, but he could feel the blood rushing to his crotch. Suddenly, as he felt his hard dick press against Sander’s leg, he realised what he was doing. This couldn’t be right. He let him go and looked at him once more with a snarl.

“Just stay away from Robbe, and stay away from me,” he said coldly.

Sander laughed mockingly as his contempt for Jens swelled. “Or what, you’re gonna blow me? Please, do yourself a favour and fuck off, now.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t like kissing me,” Jens said.

Sander pushed Jens back against the wall, suddenly so done with guys who used him to try and work out their own feelings. “You know what Jens?” he spat out disdainfully, “I hope Robbe is happy with you and you both can go and sit in your cosy little closet at home together and pretend like everything is great.”

Jens raised his eyebrows, unwilling to get drawn in to the fight again. “Suck it up mate, cause we are happy.”

“But you sure as heck aren’t in love with him if you’re making out with his ex,” Sander pointed out.

Jens let his hand drop from where it had been resting on Sander’s hip and crossed his arms. “It’s different, OK - we’re taking it slow.”

Sander shrugged. “Well, good for you. I hope that works out for you. What Robbe and I had thought was actually real and undeniable.”

Jens tutted his lips in mock-awkwardness. “Didn’t last though, did it.”

Sander took a step back, completely done with this whole situation. “Well you know what,” he said, trying to remain calm, “Fuck you, Jens, and fuck Robbe if this is what he wants. I hope you can make him happy, he deserves that at least. But he’s got my number for when you make out with someone else next week.”

Jens leaned forward, swinging his arm to punch Sander, but he was already away, picking up his beer and walking back up the stairs to the party. He called up after him “…well, fuck you too!” but as a parting shot, it was hollow and useless. He was breathing heavily and suddenly guiltily remembered Robbe waiting for him outside. He slapped his face to sober himself up and to knock the feeling of kissing Sander out of his mind. He wasn’t sure if he knew why he had done that, and neither was he sure if he regretted it. But bursting out of the front door, his best friend was nowhere to be seen.

Frantically he checked his phone and ran out into the street. Robbe’s bike was still there locked to his. Had he seen? Had he heard? Was that why he had gone?

But then he heard a soft voice call his name and turned round to see Robbe’s sweet, simple, trusting face grinning at him as he stumbled up the pavement. He shuffled up to Jens and threw his arms up around his neck.

“Can we go home? I’ve been sick and a cat looked at me,” Robbe slurred into Jens’ ear.

Jens looked down and felt himself calm a bit with this boy in his arms. “Sure thing,” Jens said, though the irony didn’t escape him. Sure was the very last thing he felt right now.


End file.
